


A Noose is a Knot

by Choking_Noises



Series: The RomCom Collection [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 4TP - Freeform, Disgusting Kageyama, Fluff, Gay, Kageyama Tobio is a Dork, Kageyama might become a model too, Kageyama stalks Hinata (friendily), M/M, Multi, Notting Hill AU, Offensive Humor, Polyamory, Trans Kageyama, Tsukishima and Kuroo have a couples tattoo but not really, Tsukishima is an underwear model, Yamaguchi and Hinata are married, Yamaguchi and Hinata work at a thrift store, not killing stalking LMAO, transgender kageyama, you know nothing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-01 23:56:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13306029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Choking_Noises/pseuds/Choking_Noises
Summary: Yamaguchi and Hinata's only interests are running their thrift store at the Karasuno Strip Mall. Kageyama will do anything in his power to disrupt their peace.One unfortunate encounter on the street and famous underwear model Kei Tsukishima is covered in coffee.





	A Noose is a Knot

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in a total of five days. I have never wrote for a polyamorous relationship before, so sorry if things seem kind of off. P.S. my jokes are fUcking trash don't @ me :). Thanks for reading!

Tadashi lies comfortably, sheets tangled at the foot of his bed, a blanket strangled by his embrace. His body moved with each breath, a content Tadashi dozing before his shift at work. He was peaceful. He was oblivious of the day before him. He was sleeping. But one orange haired boy had decided to change this all.

Another shift of his body and Hinata was spooning his back, two little hands wrapped around his waist in the most awkward way imaginable. A struggled huff from Tadashi caused Hinata to raise one to his face, cupping the freckled cheek of the dreaming angel. Tadashi shivered. Hinata decided that the best and most rational way to wake him up was with three huge kisses to his cheek, a hand through his hair, and an ass grab.

And, really, Tadashi almost expected this. So much so that when he felt the unwelcome guests on his body, he barely changed his expression. His lips may have turned down in the slightest, his eyes maybe scrunched, but mostly an overwhelming feeling of annoyance. Another disappointed huff escaped his mouth as he drifted out of sleep. Everything about waking up with Hinata straddled around his back made him regret moving in with the fool in the first place. It’s been about four years since he made the terrible decision of clicking on his Facebook ad, only to be followed with multiple  _ worse _ decisions. 

He spared a quick glance at Hinata who replied with a weak grin and two sleep deprived eyes, that were somehow still full of energy. Tadashi let out an exhale that could have maybe been a laugh, and with a wave of empathy, patted Hinata’s head. He can’t deny it, he has grown fond to whatever type of domestic lifestyle they had, that being occasional casual sex and getting discounts on their taxes. Sometimes Hinata would do things like this too, that really sealed the deal of their complicated relationship. 

“Shouyou,” Tadashi mumbles as he wiggles himself out of Hinata’s grip. “Go to your room and get ready.” He tries to get out of Hinata’s view as he wipes the saliva from his cheeks. It’s completely rational for him to just, do it in front of Hinata, but it always makes him feel bad, because Hinata is so sweet. And sensitive. 

“Why?” Hinata asks, flashing two huge eyes as he rolls from his side to his back. Making himself comfortable, he pulls Tadashi’s comforter to his chest, then draping it over his own shoulders. Tadashi is now out of bed, still mourning the ten minutes of sleep he just loss due to Hinata’s romantic gestures. 

“Because, because we have to leave the house in forty minutes and it takes you  _ at least _ an hour to get ready when you’re not focused,” Tadashi says this faster than he intends so, and pauses to take a breath. It can easily take Tadashi five minutes and half a cup of coffee to get ready for work at the thrift store. And if he’s late, he practically owns the place. “And if you are here, in my room,” he glares at Hinata who shuts the lids of his doe eyes to avoid contact. “Then you’re not focusing.” 

“Tadashi,” A teasing grin spread across Hinata’s face as he nuzzled deeper into his pillow. “Can I not watch my husband undress?” And with this, Tadashi feels his face flatten, more annoyed than before but still blissful?  Blissfully annoyed? He assumes he is never really  _ annoyed _ with Hinata, he just has no better emotion to file it under. He turns to, yet again, eye Hinata in his entirety: half naked on his bed, hair greasier than a pizza, and an awaiting smile. 

Hinata and Tadashi have been married ever since a drunken night in Las Vegas. He really, truly doesn’t want to get into it, because there’s really no reason they didn’t get an annulment. Except they’re both too lazy. And Tadashi is sure it involves money in some way, and Hinata and him are broke as shit.

Tadashi wants to whack Hinata in the face with a crowbar right now, but he settles on a throw pillow. No pillow fight is planned or intended, so Hinata is pushed out of his room with Tadashi’s favorite feather-filled boy, minor wincing involved. 

Before the door is shut, slammed, in Hinata’s face, he leans forward and places another wet kiss to his cheek. Tadashi thinks he might have been blushing for a few short seconds. 

“Take a shower.” The door is shut. And locked. 

***

Tadashi remembers back in grade school when he went to a thrift store. And yes, he had been to thrift store prior to that experience, but it was nothing compared. The walls were stacked with ancient VCR tapes, books piled on shelves. The lighting was dark and unprofessional, but still somehow magical. Clothes were in abundance on racks and shoved between boxes. Tadashi couldn’t get enough of it. He left that store with three movies, a half melted candle, and a ninja turtle costume. It was the best day of his life. 

He assumes he got obsessed with the idea of making people happy the same way he was happy, that old things can always become new. 

“One man’s trash is another man’s treasure,” Tadashi says cheerfully as he unlocks the front door of the store, a smile bright across his face. “You know, today’s gonna be a good day!” He beams as the door falls open. A small hand pressed on his back, turning into a push. 

“You’re a dumbass,” Hinata and him are now both inside, growing comfortable in their work spaces. “I like you.”

“I like me too,” Tadashi says as he swoops into the back portion of the store, where all the donated items hibernate in boxes and trash bags. Begging to be released for the drab population of the Karasuno strip mall. He knows the thrift store closes at six on Sundays, and Tadashi likes to conquer the week’s accumulated haul after work. It really only takes them a couple hours if Hinata is on wash duty and Tadashi is sorting, because Tadashi has a specific way he likes everything organized anyways. He strolls to the very back room to change into his work shirt he accidentally left in the dryer here Friday night. Yes, he washes his clothes for free at the store, if that goes to show how poor they are.

But it’s… cost efficient. 

After pulling his pale green polo over his head, he stares at his own face in the crooked mirror in the break room. He combs the awkward parts of his hair back into place, even though one strand in the back won’t cooperate. Damn, he’s so cute. He’s got freckles-- and a dashing smile. His eyes might be a little lifeless, but that all comes with the personality. This cute face deserves so much love. Like, Hinata obviously likes him. But, throughout their years of complicated “marriage”, Tadashi’s never felt  _ loved. _ And, god, that sounds so melodramatic but he knows him and Hinata have  _ something _ . But  _ something _ is missing, too. 

Why is he thinking about this, right now?

Tadashi travels back to the front of the store to join Hinata at the desk. They get most of their customers at the early hours, because nobody comes to a thrift store looking for something they need. It’s mostly a collection of elders who buy outdated fashion and brands that were popular in the 60s. Sometimes the occasional group of girls will walk in with their circle glasses and short shirts, they talk about the latest gossip and make Tadashi feel like the oldest person alive. 

But they have one very, very loyal customer. 

“Ignore him,” Hinata says, as nonchalant as he can, considering he’s him. They are both behind the register now, and Tadashi’s arm is being squeezed by the unmerciful grip of Hinata’s hand. “Ignore him.” 

“You know, Shouyou,” Tadashi whispers. “It’s actually sweet.” Hinata’s face went red as he tried his hardest to not make eye contact. “I actually think he’s cute.” Tadashi leans playfully into Hinata’s side, Hinata who is not tolerating this kind of behavior. 

“How is a creep who follows me around and changed appartements just to live by me, who looks at me through night vision goggles  _ cute? _ ” He replies in a louder whisper, voice only growing. “That guy is obsessed with me because we dated in fifth grade. For a week!” 

“The best week of my life,” a voice buds into their conversation. Tadashi looks up to see Disgusting Kageyama. His hair is matted to his head, greasy locks painting his forehead. His lips are unusually chapped considering its the middle of July. A tongue darts out and licks, seemingly smelling the atmosphere like a fucking lizard. And he was gross, his clothes smell like febreze ass and Tadashi doesn’t think Kageyama owns more than three items. But he’s goddamn adorable and Hinata can’t disagree. With his beautiful, enticing eyes. His strong shoulders. His crooked mouth. 

“Kageyama, you scare me,” Hinata replies with an appalled frown. He clenches Tadashi’s arm from underneath the desk. 

“Tobio,” He says, a dirt covered hand sliding across the counter top. “Call me Tobio.” Tadashi would normally hear this line (insert generic male name) long and drawn out with a low, sensual voice. But Kageyama manages to make this unsexy, with harsh syllables and barely pronouncing his name out of pure fear. 

“Tobio,” Tadashi jokes. “You’re scaring Hinata.” He looks at Hinata who is rosy cheeked and avoiding conversation. Tadashi knows he’s probably saying  _ Tobio, Tobio, Tobio _ over and over again in his head, because that’s how he is.  _ Tobio, so disgusting.  _ “Would you like to buy anything?” 

Kageyama shifts uncomfortably in place, hands in his pockets. It almost makes Tadashi upset, to think he doesn’t have the money to buy anything at this damned thrift store, that he lives in the “haunted” apartment next door just so he can be close to Hinata, that Hinata ignores him nonetheless. After a few seconds of silence, Tadashi expects Kageyama to give up and leave, or go to the bathroom for an hour. He does neither of these things. 

“One man’s garbage is another man’s best,” Kageyama messes up, confidently, withdrawing a volleyball from the inside of his trench coat (which really didn’t look like it could fit everything he pulls out of there). He shifts his feet so he is in front of Hinata, and slams the ball onto the counter. May Tadashi mention, this is the most haggard, mess of a volleyball he’s seen since his highschool days. And that’s saying a lot. “Take my garbage.”

“Kageyama…” Hinata breaks the ice after a couple moments of uncomfortable silence. He locks his eyes with the ball. Tadashi’s heart drops knowing what he’s going to say. Poor Tobio’s feelings, all hurt and everything. 

“Tobio,” Kageyama deadpans, staring straight at Hinata’s nose. 

“Yes...Tobio,” Hinata lets out a strangled grumble of a laugh as he digs fingernails into Tadashi’s arm. “Literally no one would want that, dumbass.” Tadashi looks back to Kageyama who doesn’t look too devastated. He does seem pretty in need at the moment. Wounded. Tadashi doesn’t usually fall for charity, exactly why Kageyama was in the perfect place at the perfect time. 

“Dumbass,” Kageyama pouts back. 

“Hey, Kags,” Tadashi purrs. Yes, he is playing with Kageyama, but the boy is cute for god's sake. He just needs a shower or… something. Tadashi realizes this is a common trend between men he is involved with. A change would be nice. “Buy me and Shouyou some coffee, would ya?” He flashes the right amount of money in Kageyama’s face, along with a couple extra bills slipped in. Tadashi smiles at the way Kageyama’s cheeks turn pink. His ears too, just on the tips. “Keep the change,” Oooooo does Tadashi feel like a pimp!? He should really do this more often, be full of himself and such. Flirting is so fun when the other person technically can’t reject you. 

“Yeah,” Kageyama hesitantly grabbed the money from his hand, almost gapping in awe. It was obvious he didn’t know what to do. 

“For fucks sake it’s four dollars,” Hinata moans, and Tadashi can almost hear a smile (enjoyment?) in his voice. 

“I want two sugars, one cream,” Tadashi turns to Hinata, who has abandoned the volleyball and faced away from them both. It takes all his might not to kick him square in the back. “And you?” He asks. Hinata whips around with an alarming frown and two angry eyebrows arched for the gods.

There was a moment of silence, where Hinata’s face was strained and red, staring directly into Kageyama’s eyes. And Tadashi doesn’t think anyone really knew what to say. Because the awkward intensity of Hinata’s—presence—is a lot to handle. Tadashi feels this break in conversation lasts for at least an hour. 

“Iced,” Hinata finally says, the word coming with a hiss, his pursed lips falling. Tadashi tried his hardest to keep his giggle in, but now he’s laughing guiltily away from Hinata’s ear. Unfortunately, Kageyama and Hinata’s staring contest is never failing, Tadashi is giggling like a mess, and they have the most serious looks on their faces. 

“The sexual tension,” Tadashi sighs, “It’s incredible.” 

***

“Two lefts, one right, straight for a couple stores,” Tobio mumbles to himself as he struts (limps) down the street. He could never be straight for that long. “Two sugars, one cream,” he glances down at the cup in his left hand. He wearily looks at the one in his right. “Iced.” He hisses this, imitating Hinata. He is sure Yamaguchi would laugh at this joke. 

Tobio has pocketed $1.56 from this experience. He is a wealthy man. He ponders how he will spend this fortune. 

Most likely Hinata. Not  _ on _ Hinata, but  _ for _ Hinata. Tobio will buy Tobio’s most sought after thing. Hinata is precious goods that need to be cared for, not just by one person—two! Sure, Yamaguchi has been doing a fine job, but Tobio is sure Hinata needs more than a simple lover. And Yama, not too bad himself. 

Then again, he’s getting low on his T pills…

Tobio Kageyama is transgender—true fact. 

But Hinata deserves the money. He deserves everything Tobio has to offer. But he is a fucking idiot too. 

Midst his own thoughts, Tobio finds himself lost. Well, unfamiliar with his terrain. Tobio Kageyama has never been lost in his life—true fact. He will find his familiarity with the terrain, and mozzy on his way. 

“Hello,” Tobio says in the silence of the street, directed towards no one. He expected someone to answer but there is no reply. The Karasuno Strip Mall (copyright) is not busy today. Nor is it any other day. 

Which is why the angel across the street is such a surprise. 

“Hello?” he asks now, glaring at the human parallel from him. He does not hear. Tobio realizes, if he wants to show Hinata and Yamaguchi his find then he mustn’t just say  _ hello _ . He knows that’s what most people do but, for some reason, guys normally just give him their spare change and an empathetic smile. 

The man is tall and blond. Blond and tall. Like a french fry. And god, is he an angel. Has he said that before? Tobio can only see his backside, but that fucking backside. Men were his passion, could he say, and his passion was definitely rumbling. And he’s wearing a  _ white _ shirt. With no stains. 

He’s not just an angel—he is god himself. 

Don’t mistake him, Hinata is still as hot as the fiery lust burning in Tobio’s soul for him. Hotter, in fact, which is saying a lot considering Tobio thinks his heart is going to explode every time Hinata looks like he might talk. (Also, on a side note, Tobio would like to mention he scored TWO movie dates with Hinata recently. And no, he didn’t force him to come. He strongly suggested and— whatever it was a total of 336 minutes and Tobio enjoyed every moment of it.) 

There is something more approachable about man across the street, though. This four eyed fiend is almost familiar. 

Like—like when you masturbate using a certain smell of lotion and someone you know wears it unexpectedly on a casual occasion and you’re just  _ dying _ because you’re super uncomfortable. Like that. 

But, in the heat of the moment, Tobio had only one choice. 

Running across the street.

And crashing into him.

Full force. 

Because casual confrontation isn’t real and rejection is not acceptable. 

Coffee is everywhere. The styrofoam cup is smashed to pieces, white chunks flooding the rivers of cream brown liquid running down his spine. And by coffee he means just Yamaguchi’s because Hinata’s was spared. For personal reasons. Though this was actually a really bad decision considering Tobio had just intentionally busted a cup of burning hot coffee into the back of his newly recognized idol. 

All the sudden his white shirt isn’t so white. And Tobio is freaking out because  _ what the fuck did he just do.  _ He’s probably burning alive. And, another perfect decision made, he glanced to his right. 

Iced. 

***

Tadashi thinks he might actually die. He says this a lot, mostly ironically. But today it is the most serious thought he’s had in the past week. 

“And that’s when I told him I worked at a thrift store and he could come get a change of clothes here,” Kageyama finishes, no smile on his lips, not an ounce of humor. 

“Is this after you splashed coffee on both sides of him?” Hinata asks, giggling slightly. He really is interested in all of this, Tadashi can tell. Hinata has both hands holding him on the table, already standing up from when he first noticed Kageyama’s accessory. 

“Tobio you don’t work here,” Tadashi anxiously laughs, considering he’s the most socially awkward, nervous person here. In this room. If he knows any better. Also, is this true love?

Tadashi takes his precious time to admire victim in front of him. The first thing he can’t help but see is the massive, drenched stain in the middle of his shirt. The coffee-soaked clothing clung to his skin and god—he was really trying to not think about that. But, he could just imagine that chest, all that chest, from that one window for his viewing opportunity. Fuck.  _ Fuck. _ Tadashi focuses on the curve of his jaw, it’s pale, flawless skin. How much he wants to—Oh those  _ eyes _ . Wow, his glasses flatter him. Tadashi has never sought after a guy with glasses because it’s not something he ever thought he was particularly attracted to. But he definitely is. Now, definitely. Definitely, now. Wow. Tadashi really thinks he can stare at him all day, two beautiful brown eyes, dainty but inviting, soft, pink lips. Jeez, he’s really swooning. 

He’s taller than Tadashi and Kageyama, which is really freaking tall. And Tadashi thinks his most favorite thing about sexy mystery boy is the color of his hair. Tadashi likes hair very much, as weird as that sounds. Hinata has that wild, untamed mess of orange, extravagant hair. Kageyama has the bowl cut of bowl cuts, and he assumes it would be much more attractive if it was washed from time to time. Then, to complete his collection, a platinum blond beauty stands in front of him, just asking for it. 

Asking for Tadashi’s love and affection. 

And he was ready to give it, full force, 100%, merciless. Give it to this french fry of a man. 

“Yes,” Kageyama says. He is very high strung, unusually high strung, right now. Normally he is constantly awkward, and weird—stupid. But some new type over nervousness is flooding him, and Tadashi can tell. “I have promised him with a new outfit.” 

“Oh yeah,” Tadashi coughs, laughs and scoffs all at the same time, probably either conveying his anxiety fueled crush or making him look like he is having seizure. Honestly, it’s a little bit of both. “Yeah, yeah um let’s—the back, the back room. It’s where I can,” Stop, Tadashi Yamaguchi, you are a star. You can do this. Hinata’s gonna love him, he loves tall boys! Tadashi can feel his lips moving silently to his own mumbles, abruptly shutting up and looking ahead, which just happens to be right in the eyes of—wait. “I don’t even know his name!” 

“Hmmm?” He has spoken for the first time. And Tadashi is trying his hardest to not freak the freak out and Victoria Justice, right here, in the middle of basically his establishment, in front of basically a customer, who just may happen to be covered in coffee and extremely hot. He means the coffee, the extremely hot coffee. Customer is hot too though, actually, and is he rambling in his own thoughts? Tadashi! Get a grip!

“I can get you a new outfit,” Tadashi concludes, flashing two thumbs up (for absolutely no reason at all except he felt it would make his seem cooler). His heart is racing so fast it could win an Olympic Medal (Usain Bolt has no chance, can I make two references to pop culture in one scene?) “Follow me.”

“Who said  _ you’re _ the one who gets to be alone with him,” Hinata whines, confirming his approval. No, no, Hinata. This was only sexual and romantic and uncomfortable in  _ Tadashi’s _ head before you had to announce it to the entire room. Tadashi is sure his face is redder than an tomato. He can feel the life in his body collecting to his cheeks, his face physically warming. What is this super-san blush? 

“Come,” Tadashi sighs. He glances up at the blond. His eyes are lidded and seemingly uninterested. He can’t tell if that’s a good or bad thing. 

Him and Tadashi head towards the back room. He wonders what kind of clothes he would wear. From his current apparel, he looks simplistic. Tadashi is a self proclaimed fashionista with a low budget. He thinks he makes it work. 

Tadashi is sure once he enters the back room, he is appalled. Who wouldn’t be? It’s a mess. He really would have cleaned it up earlier if he knew something like this was going to happen.  _ Something like this.  _ Tadashi doesn’t even know how many clean clothes he’s got back here. Oh god he’s a mess. Why didn’t he just let him pick clothes from the front of the store? They’re all clean! Why, why, why was Tadashi putting himself in compromising situations!? 

As exclaiming self criticism in his head, Tadashi turns around in a hurry, maybe because he’s thinking about the front of the store and the front of the store is  _ the other direction.  _

Guess what’s also the other direction. 

The hottie. The customer. Him, blond, tall, sexiest french fry he’s ever seen. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tadashi is standing face to face (more like face to neck, considering their height difference) with one of the hottest guys he’s ever met. And he doesn’t even know him. 

He wishes he was back when he was shamelessly flirting with Kageyama. Where has that Tadashi gone?  _ “Keep the change”  _ kEeP tHe ChAnGe. Tadashi doesn’t get it. How can life be so hard? 

In this very moment, where Tadashi and mystery man are so close that they’re breathing each other’s breaths (not as romantic as it sounds), the world stops. He’s suddenly aware of the scenery, the provocative darkness, boxes cluttered around them. Tadashi sees the contour of his collar bones through the seam of his shirt. And he’s  _ really  _ dying to know his name. 

It doesn’t take anything but a glance for Tadashi to gets lost in his eyes. So poetic, he knows. 

“Medium.”

What?

“Or small long,” He interrupts Tadashi’s train of irrational thought with his…clothing sizes. Yes, yeah that’s, obviously, obviously what they’re doing back here in the first place. 

Tadashi really needs to start talking. And fast. 

“So,” Tadashi mumbles, “What’s your style?” Oh god damn what kind of fucking question is that Tadashi—

“Minimalist,” He replies, mysteriously fast considering not everyone just knows their style off the top of their head. Is that even a style? What is a style? Is he messing with him? 

“Guessing that means no logos? Or random animals? Majority of the clothes here,” Tadashi assumes. He can actually really do this. He just needs to be himself. His best self. “I’ve got something in mind.” Tadashi sifts through racks or clean clothes, searching for something worthy of being touched by  _ him. _

“A white shirt is fine,” He objects to Tadashi’s frantic search. Tadashi sees him standing kind of hunched, his pants hugging the the muscles of his legs. His eyes travel the length of his body. If Tadashi can pull this off… 

“Do you need pants too?” Tadashi hides his never ending embarrassment in the clothes, just mindlessly searching for something, trying so hard not to ramble. “And actually,” Haha stop. “I consider myself a fashion enthusiast so.” 

“Your style is atrocious.”

Tadashi was nervous enough about everything, about saying a daring line about him and his relationship with fashion. Then he gets shot down. He can’t believe this! He knows nothing about Tadashi’s fashion.

“Oh,” Tadashi laughs nervously. “I’m in my work uniform right now I—” 

“It’s the shoes,” He interrupts, looking down at Tadashi’s feet. Tadashi can admit they are loud, but super cute. He doesn’t wear them that often. And he doesn’t think he will be wearing them much more after this. “They don’t match.” 

Tadashi’s feelings are getting stupidly hurt by the minute and he needs to get off of this topic. Before he falls into a crumpled mess of embarrassment, that is. Looks like it’s over. Really, Tadashi has had enough past with insults and if he’s inviting another person into his life they can’t be  _ mean _ why is he being so  _ mean?  _ He’s got Hinata—Hinata is great! Hinata is  _ sweet.  _ He never hurts Tadashi’s feelings...intentionally.

“I like the hair though,” blondie says, one big twink hand hesitantly rising. Oh no. What are the intentions of that hand? Because, from Tadashi’s perspective, it looks like it’s coming directly towards his head. Can he handle a casual head tap, maybe a rub? A fucking nuzzle? 

Contact is made. Hand is in hair. Tadashi is, thankfully, clean. Today. This is not normal. Does it normally feel like a sheet of rock is hitting your head? Dear god this guy is tense. Oh god—this guy is tense! So is Tadashi! They are both scared shitless! 

Or maybe he’s uncomfortable because he just upset Tadashi. Why would he care? Isn’t he like a new breed of superior human that doesn’t have basic feelings?

Well, Tadashi can speak for himself, and his basic human feelings are off the fucking wall. 

“Here,” Tadashi turns, moving from the hand placed on his head. “You can,” Tadashi knows he is being short. Why does he subconsciously sabotage himself? He turns to the rack and pulls out the first medium he can find. “Wear this.” 

Tadashi spins rapidly, facing the french fry. His shirt is now discarded, rolled in his hand, revealing his rippling abs. His  _ rippling abs? _ Tadashi kill yourself. But, fuck he wasn’t ready for that, he is not ready for this. There was one very unusual tattoo on his left hip, full black ink silhouette of a dinosaur—the one with the long neck—with...cat ears. Tadashi could only expect, a neko Brachiosaurus. Tadashi isn’t going to lie, it wasn’t sexy. But it wasn’t necessarily hurting anything. 

To shield his eyes from the pure beauty in front of him, Tadashi lifts the shirt up, blocking his view, thrusted forward. 

“Put this on, tell me if it doesn’t fit,” Tadashi demands, quickly placing the shirt in his hands and rushing towards the front of the shop. He is almost to the door before curiosity overwhelms him and he has to turn around and get another glance. This must be done and over with fast and deliberate actions.

There he is, in his pure godliness, stretching muscles with his shirt slowly falling down over his hips. Nervous eyes are tracking his body for a few sweet moments before contact is made. Eye contact, that is. Tadashi feels a blush immediately rise to his cheeks. He rushes out the door into the front as fast as he possibly can. 

One thing he knows: the shirt fits. 

“So Tadashi…” Hinata insists on bothering him the moment he comes out of an extremely stressful situation. It could have been any of them back there. Tadashi is taking one for the team. He is the awkward first encounter. “Been back there for a while?” 

“Yes,” Tadashi has pushed his body against the closed door as dramatically as he can. “I have been.” He wishes him and mystery man had been doing what Hinata was implying. A lot simpler then whatever the hell just happened. It’s not even his fault he got coffee on his shirt. Damn you, Disgusting Kageyama. 

Suddenly, Tadashi feels three huge raps from the other side of the door. He backs away quicky, taking the doorknob with him. 

Hinata is sitting comfortably in his chair behind the counter, Kagayama standing by him awkwardly. They are so cute. Tadashi would really rather be back at his apartment with his “husband” and his weird neighbor. Is his shift over yet? 

“The shirt is definitely an improvement,” Kageyama concludes as the man emerges from the back room. This is the first time Tadashi really realises what he's actually clothed him in. 

“I’ll have to take you up on the offer,” Hinata squeals. 

It’s a light pink t-shirt, randomly colored clip art flowers scattered. And right, smack dab in the middle, white comic sans font, it says “kiss me.”

“Kiss me?” Tadashi asks himself as he comprehends what just happened. And with that, the man leaves. 

“Ha, just as salty as he looks,” Kageyama jokes. 

Tadashi is already falling apart, but he manages to stand up and place a weak hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. 

“And what exactly do you mean by that?” 

***

Shouyou and Yamaguchi later learn the real identity of mystery man. 

Shouyou is sitting peacefully in his living room, contently bored, rolling a kickball across the living room. Just hard enough that it will bounce back to him. He has been doing this for the past hour. 

“Hinata,” Shouyou hears muffled pleas from beyond his apartment door. “Tadashi!” Shouyou hesitantly rises from his seat to see what Kageyama was so strung up about. Shouyou was only a little mad. It would have been nice if Kageyama could have called him by his first name, like he had done for Yamaguchi, but it didn’t matter. Kageyama is a dumbass he probably didn’t even notice. Shouyou hates him. 

“Yes?” Shouyou asks, opening his door slightly, with the chain lock latched. He peeks two daring eyes out through the crack. Then he considers executing himself because he’s so short he has to look up. A few moments of silence pass before Shouyou breaks it. “Kageyama you are still as disgusting as you were yesterday.” 

“I am sorry,” Kageyama whines, clenching his fists around what seems to be a rolled up magazine. 

“Is that why you are here?” Shouyou asks, honestly quite excited about whatever that might lead to. For some reason, Shouyou always feels like he has to be uninterested around Kageyama. He concludes that if Shouyou showed his full interest about a subject Kageyama introduced, Kageyama would die on the spot. 

“Yes. Let me in,” Kageyama says with cold eyes and two hands firm at his sides.

Shouyou lets him in.

 

“Kiss me,” Kageyama demands immediately after the door shuts. He does this everytime they’re alone. 

“No.”

“Okay.”

“Yamaguchi!” Shouyou screams up the stairs through the paper thin walls. “Tadashi!” Shouyou works his way into the living room, letting Kageyama follow. He replies with an unsatisfactory “what” that just promotes more yelling upstairs. “Kageyama is here!” 

“I am here,” Kageyama barely yells back and Shouyou assumes he is trying to fit in. Yamaguchi later replies with an “I’m coming.” Shouyou can only guess that’s because Kageyama is here and Yama secretly has a huge crush on him, for some inexplicable reason. Shouyou can’t relate. 

They all gather around the couch like a cult and examine Kageyama’s magazine. 

The first few pages are just random pictures of lingerie models that don’t seem to relate to anything. Shouyou would be really mad if they just sit here and look at a bunch of hot girls. Then Kageyama would have fooled him. Shouyou will not be fooled. 

“What’s the point of this?” Shouyou asks right as Kageyama flips the page. 

“Is that—”

“Yes,” Kageyama interrupts Yamaguchi. “His name is Tsukishima. Kei Tsukishima.” 

Shouyou, sitting next to Kageyama, rips the magazine from his hands and stares intently. It’s definitely the same guy. 

“He’s naked!” Shouyou yelps. What is this feeling he is feeling? He swears puberty is over. 

“No! Shouyou! He’s wearing underwear,” Yamaguchi corrects, glaring at the picture over Shouyou’s shoulder. “He’s an underwear model. No wonder we all though he was so hot.” 

Everyone goes silent.

“We all thought he was hot, right?” Yamaguchi asks, doubting himself. 

“Yes,” Shouyou says. “Beyond hot, gorgeous.” Shouyou knew he had an instant physical attraction to Tsukishima. Kageyama, not so much. Kageyama is so gross! Shouyou would never have a crush on him. It’s Shouyou, Yamaguchi and possibly Tsukishima. There is not Tobio. Kageyama, he means Kageyama. 

“I know where he lives,” Kageyama confesses, snatching his magazine back and flapping (fapping) it shut. Shouyou can not explain how many levels of anticipation he is feeling. “So we can return.” 

Shouyou doesn’t know if Kageyama means  _ they _ return or they return his shirt he left behind. Yama told him that French Fry (the name they had adopted before they knew his name was Tsukishima because he was long and slim, yellow and salty) had left his coffee drenched shirt in the back room on top of the washing machine. He wasn’t sure it that was offensive or not. Yamaguchi is like that a lot. But, after seven deep clean washes and two bleaches, Shouyou realized there was no hope. Yamaguchi forced Kageyama to run up to the supermarket and buy a brand new white shirt incase Tsukishima returned.

Did Shouyou actually meet an underwear model? And NOT shoot his shot? Hanging out with Kageyama so much must have hindered his flirting ability. 

“Tobio you’re really a creep,” Yamaguchi jokes (but it’s not really a joke, it’s the truth. Kageyama is a total creep). 

“Well, come on, let’s go,” Shouyou smiles, standing as he speaks. “We have to return to Kei before it’s too late! Before he changes addresses in order to escape from us!” 

“Please do not call him Kei.” 

“Tsukishima!”

Now Yamaguchi, Shouyou and Kageyama are standing directly in front of the door to Tsukishima’s apartment. It’s on the first floor, an average stone staircase leading to an even more average maroon door. Shouyou barely believes this is Tsukishima’s house. Kageyama could be wrong, he often is. 

“Well…” Yamaguchi stalls, white t-shirt in hand. “Who’s gonna ring the doorbell?”

“Tobio Kageyama has never rang a doorbell in his life--true fact.” Kageyama speaks in third person, backing away from the door. Shouyou laughs. 

“Kageyama, you ring doorbells all the time!” Shouyou moans, walking up to the front door. “I will ring the doorbell because,” He pauses to pose so the others can get full view of his blessed body. “I am the most physically attractive.” Shouyou glances at Yama who’s shaking in his shoes, then to Kageyama who looks like he just crawled out of a sewer. Definitely the sexiest one here.

Shouyou uses his most favorite finger (his left pointer if you were wondering) to press the button. A loud, typical buzz emanates from inside the apartment, footsteps stomping down the stairs. Shouyou suddenly feels scared. But not that scared. Still excited. He doesn’t do much. 

Shouyou, curious of the world beyond the door, stands on his very tippy toes and glances through the peephole. He can’t see anything, as expected, but it was worth a chance. The doorknob starts to move, and after a series of clicks, a four eyed face is revealed to the trio. 

He looks a little disheveled, hair not combed like he had just woke up. His glasses were a little crooked on his head, eyes narrowed and focusing on the guests. Tsukishima was wearing dark sweatpants and a more than familiar shirt. 

How long has it been since their first encounter? Like a week? 

“Kei Tsukishima,” Yamaguchi gapes, his jaw dropped open and dramatically as it could be. He’s very dramatic, and cute. “Are you still wearing the shirt I gave you?” 

A light pink barely tints Tsukishima’s face as he “frantically” (Tsukishima doesn’t do anything frantically) looks down at his shirt. The flush deepens but he never smiles. Just a blank face, stone wall of embarrassment. After a few moments, coming to a conclusion, Tsukishima looks back at them.

“Yes,” He deadpans, shuffling his feet on the ground. Shouyou thinks he is really tall. Like really tall. He hasn’t really said anything to Tsukishima yet, who’s barely noticeable color is fading as he stares into the crowd. “What do you want?” 

Shouyou wants to laugh. Tsukishima is so adorably nervous. 

“We uh—“ Yamaguchi fumbles with the shirt in his hand. “Brought back your shirt.” Shouyou retrieves the shirt and hands it to Tsukishima who looks less than impressed. 

“This is not my shirt,” Tsukishima states, unfolding it and looking at the tag. He seems very uninterested. Shouyou guesses he was wrong, maybe Tsukishima didn’t have the hots for him or Yamaguchi. Definitely not Kageyama. Nobody except Yamaguchi could ever crush on Kageyama. 

“Oh yeah—about that,” Yamaguchi stutters. “We couldn’t get the stain out so, haha, we um went to the store and,” Shouyou glances back to see Yamaguchi with hands in the air, beads of sweat dripping down his face, two lips uncomfortably pursed. “Bought you a new one.” He finishes with lowering his palms into an awkward hand hold with one another. 

“That was Gucci,” Tsukishima refers to the shirt. That’s a really, really expensive brand. Shouyou doesn’t think he’s ever touched something worth that much. 

He hears snickers behind him, turning to see Kageyama whisper something into Yamaguchi’s ear, Yamaguchi then laughing and replying with something along the lines of no. This more audible line from Kageyama: do it. 

“I’m—“ Yama laughs at himself, obviously embarrassed and regretting his decision. “I’m all the Guchi you need.” 

“Baby,” Kageyama adds as he flashes two finger guns at a confused/annoyed Tsukishima. Shouyou and Tsukishima look back at them, both awkwardly close to each other, suppressing laughs. “I couldn’t make the joke my name isn’t Yamaguchi.” 

“Yeah, dumbass,” Shouyou frowns, turning to Tsukishima. The unimaginable has happened. Is Tsukishima…smiling? Oh god he’s  _ actually  _ smiling. Shouyou is filled with an overwhelming joy at the miniature grin on Kei Tsukishima’s face. It was so precious. 

“Cute name,” Tsukishima says, eliminating his smirk as he draws attention to himself. Shouyou still can’t get over that. Tsukishima laughing at  _ that _ joke. He was probably a freaking nerd who like internet memes and has a secret fan account for himself on Tumblr. Probably has a blog and a diary. That’s adorable. Shouyou knows Yamaguchi is melting right now, his freckled cheeks covered in crimson. Shouyou wants to slip a hand into one of Yama’s sweaty palms, but he concludes now is not the time. 

“Thanks,” Yamaguchi laughs, a hand grabbing the nape of his neck. Shouyou knows he’s dying inside. He wonders if Tsukishima would follow him back on Instagram. 

“I’ve got a modeling job soon,” Tsukishima says. He backs into his doorway with a hand on the doorknob. As the door shuts more and more, and the trio does not move, Tsukishima ends on one thing. “Please don’t follow me.” 

Sentences like that fuel Shouyou, really. 

“Oh, we would never Tsukishima.” Yamaguchi assumes, grabbing Shouyou’s wrist and pulling him away from the door. “Bye!” 

“Bye,” Tsukishima dismisses, shutting his door. 

“See you soon,” Kageyama shouts back. “Very soon.” At this very moment, Kageyama and Shouyou make electric eye contact, the only time their minds have been on the same path. Ever. 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Shouyou grins, hand on his hip. Infiltrating the life of a celebrity because he’s hot? Because he specifically said not to? Sign. Him. Up. 

“No, no, NO,” Yamaguchi demands, pulling at a significantly smaller Shouyou. “We are  _ all  _ going home. No type of stalking will happen, not while I’m in charge.” 

“Are you inviting me to your home, Tadashi Yamaguchi?” Kageyama asks, a sly smile on his face. 

“No!” Shouyou yelps. He is weak. “And I’m not going home. I don’t have work today, you’re not my mom.” Shouyou sounds like he’s seven. He feels like he’s seven. 

“But you’re my um, husband?” Yamaguchi barely yells at him, yanking his arm again. “And we are going home.” 

“I’m not your husband,” Kageyama says without emotion, two dead eyes staring at him. Shouyou thinks there was about a minute of awkward silence until Yamaguchi finally starts to pull Shouyou back towards their apartment. 

“You can do it Tobio!” Shouyou dramatically shouts back. Why the  _ fuck  _ did he just say Tobio? “Follow the french fry! Get his phone number!” He shouts louder and louder as he is dragged away. 

“Don’t call him that!” Yamaguchi yells in his ear. “We know his name.” He tightens his grip around Shouyou’s arm as he walks faster. 

“Kageyama, make me proud,” Shouyou shouts one last time.  _ Son  _ he thinks to himself. 

“Yes!” Kageyama repeats until it has faded away into silence. 

Tobio Kageyama is an experienced pursuer (synonym for stalker, really)—true fact. 

After Hinata is gone, Tobio steps into a nearby bush, quickly squatting. He is shaking from pure bliss. Yamaguchi likes him, well he doesn’t  _ hate _ him, he knows that. And Hinata said his name! He called him fucking Tobio! 

Before Tobio can collect his thoughts, pretty boy is opening the door. He hopes he is hidden enough, he didn’t really have time to check. Tobio snuggles himself and his abundant coat into the bush as deep as he can in the middle of July. Tsukishima is no longer wearing the kiss me shirt, but a generic white one that looks suspiciously similar to the one Yamaguchi had just brought him. He’s still in the same pants, hair messy but more tamed. He’s wearing a god damn beret. 

As he walks down the stairs, Tobio gets a rather generous view of Tsukishima’s precious ass, wrapped so tightly in the gift of sweatpants. He sees a white leather purse hung by his side, probably Valentino. Tsukishima walks in the direction of the sidewalk that Tobio is, awaiting him in a bush. All Tobio had to do was wait a few minutes for Tsukishima to pass him, then slowly emerge from the bush, staying in the shadows as he follows each movement. 

“Kageyama,” Tobio is startled when he hears this familiar voice. “Please don’t kill my shrub,” Tsukishima says glaring down, disappointed with Tobio’s actions. How does he know his name? Kei Tsukishima, famed underwear model, knows his name! He suddenly realises how actually  _ not _ hidden he is. How exposed his entire body is—he’s a fucking idiot. Tobio, Tobio, Hinata is trusting you with this. 

Tobio sticks a hand straight up, gesturing for Tsukishima to grab onto it. He doesn’t, so Tobio stands up on his own. 

“I am sorry,” Tobio apologises. Tsukishima ignores him. He starts to walk away, go back on path to wherever he’s going. Tobio almost doesn’t run up beside him because he really wants to take in the full view of his glorious body from behind. But, with his never dying persistence, he catches up. “Tsukishima?”

“Yes?” Tsukishima replies, still the same pace, facing forward, focusing on the dangerous sidewalk. 

“Can I have your phone number?” Tobio asks. He wants to get straight to the point. Rejection is not ideal. As they walk, Tobio subtly brushes his hand against Tsukishima’s. He flinches every time. 

“No,” Tsukishima answers. He speeds up a little. 

“Why?” Tobio questions. 

“I don’t have a phone,” Tsukishima lies. Tobio knows he’s lying. Everyone has a phone. Except Tobio.

“Yes you do, you’re famed underwear model Kei Tsukishima” Tobio further objects. Tsukishima walks faster.

“I don’t give out my phone number to fans,” Tsukishima may be telling the truth now, but… 

“I am more than a fan, Kei Tsukishima,” Tobio declares, placing a firm hand onto Tsukishima’s shoulder. “I am a potential love interest.” 

“This is a white shirt,” Tsukishima points out. “Please do not stain another one of my shirts.” Tobio looks down at his hand, perfectly cupping the curve of Tsukishima’s muscle. 

“How?” Tobio asks, staring up to Tsukishima. 

“Your hand,” Tsukishima cringes. “It’s dirty.” Tobio is stunned. 

“I—,” Tobio stutters. He wants to object, but, to complete the mission, he must conform. “I am dirty. Or so I have been told.” Tobio removes his hand, longingly. “But that is beside the point! I am involved with your dearly beloved Yamaguchi.” 

“What?” Now is time for Tsukishima to ask the questions. “Are you and Yamaguchi together?” He looks “very” (tsukishima is never “ _ very” _ anything) disappointed. Tobio is hysterical. In his head. 

“Yes, well no—technically…” Tobio doesn’t really know how to explain. Are him and Yamaguchi a thing? Because Tobio loves men, Yamaguchi is a man, and they seem to have a mutual liking. “Yes. But Yamaguchi is also married to Hinata and me and Hinata have been dating since elementary school.” 

“Wow,” Tsukishima lets his mouth open the slightest before realizing he should be walking. Tobio follows. “That’s cool.” 

“Very cool,” Tobio says, smiling with pride. 

Tsukishima falls silent as they reach a building, only mildly flooded by paparazzi. It’s a huge warehouse, two big, metal doors at the entrance, already opened, seemingly for them. One very calm and collected woman with short black hair and wire glasses approaches them, a clipboard in hand. 

“You are on the first floor, room eleven,” The black haired girl says, checking something off her list. “Who is this?” She asks, directed towards Tobio who feels as useful as a rock. Should he say something? He can’t give up now. Tobio needs this phone number. 

“He’s with me,” Tsukishima says before Tobio can conjure a lie. What is this? An act of kindness? Is Tobio’s charm finally showing on him? They start walking quicky in the building, just like in the movies but there’s less background music. 

The air smells like donuts and sweat, a small spritz of perfume somewhere in the middle. Tobio tries to keep up as well as he can, not getting lost in the crowd. He wonders why Tsukishima looks so lousy if he’s going to a modeling job. Is it like one of those pajama ones? Or is Tsukishima just going to get his face powdered and strip down to his boxers? Tobio only assumes the girl leading them is his manager, she departs at room nine. 

Once in room eleven, Tobio realizes there aren’t a lot of other people. He understands that Tsukishima is famous, but famous enough for his very own photo shoot? He sees a couple of other promising people, but none of them really look like models. As Tsukishima settles in, the room falls silent. Or, not silent, quiet. When Tsukishima bends over to place his purse down Tobio gets blessed with another view of his ass. Fuck. 

“Hello,” a man with dark black hair and gorgeous eyes walks to them, “I am Akaashi and I will be your photographer for the day.” He is dressed in a baggy shirt and tight leggings, very photographer trying to be aesthetic esque. It looks like he is about to say something else, until a wheelchaired man with crazy yellow eyes rolls up beside him and starts shouting. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He shouts, eyebrows raising. “I’m Bokuto, and we have a fucking problem.” He says with his hands, flinging them in the air, distressed. He rolls his chair over to right in front of Tsukishima. He scans him up and down. “The other model isn’t here! And we’ve gotta get these pictures to fucking corporate by tomorrow!”

“And how is this my problem?” Tsukishima asks saltily, a hand on his hip. 

“You will not get paid,” Akaashi answers peacefully as he plays with his sleeve, personality very different from the other. “I apologize that you are having such a difficult experience the first time working with us.” Tobio sees Tsukishima’s face constrict a little, kind of smug. Tobio assumes Tsukishima has enough money to give up one shoot, right? Then again he seems like someone who wouldn’t pass up being a little more wealthy. 

“Wait,” Bokuto furrows his brows and frowns, glaring at Tobio. “Who is this?” He asks Tsukishima, obviously referring to Tobio. “Wait, nevermind, he will do,” Bokuto grabs Tobio’s arm and pulls him along as he rolls to a couple of odd vanities and standing people. 

Tobio Kageyama does not know what’s going on—true fact.

“So, how many times have you modeled before?” Bokuto asks, guiding him into an office chair. “You’re very grunge, ya know? When was the last time you brushed your teeth?” He then laughs characteristically loud, tipping his head back with a scrunched face. Tobio is being asked a lot of questions, which one should he answer? 

“Saturday,” He replies, someone turning him towards the vanity. Tobio doesn’t have a mirror at home, so this is the first time he’s actually seen himself in a while. He’s kinda...hot. (In actuality, Kageyama is staring at the disgusting greasy man that he is, but he is too oblivious to know so.)

“That was rhetorical,” Bokuto laughs again, then yells for someone.

“Last Saturday,” Tobio whispers to himself as everyone else runs around to fetch things and people. He glances around to find Tsukishima. A lot is going on and Tobio is lost. He feels pressured to be better than he really is. Which is saying a lot. Tobio kind of wants to go home. Is this the experience of a lifetime? Yes. Can Tobio handle this? Maybe.  

Finally, Tsukishima is located, sitting next to him. He looks even more angelic with the white light shining on the high points of his face, his glasses tucked away into his shirt pocket. 

“What’s going on?” Tobio asks Tsukishima. “Kei?”

“Don’t call me that,” Tsukishima immediately replies, avoiding eye contact with Tobio. 

“Kei,” Tobio repeats, laughing a little. A giggle. A manipulative chuckle to manipulate the manipulated. He is the manipulator. 

Tsukishima looks like he might have cracked a smile, rolling his eyes and dismissing Tobio’s behavior. “They want you to be a part of the shoot.” Tsukishima sighs. A short, strawberry blonde girl comes up behind him, removing his beret and patting down his blond locks. She starts getting hair products and teasing with his hair. “And it’s kind of…” Tsukishima frowns. “Sensual. So just… don’t get a boner or anything,” He smirks a little, placing his fingers on the bridge of his nose. Tobio doesn’t find this funny. He is confused. 

“I won’t,” Tobio says this confidently, very confidently, completely positive he will not. And Tsukishima looks almost stunned. “I can’t.” 

“Oh,” Tsukishima furrows his brows, placing his hands in his lap. He chuckles. The girl pampering Tsukishima only pauses for a moment before continuing with a deep blush. Tobio feels a knot welling in his stomach. It’s not like  _ that _ , stupid Tsukishima. 

“I--ugh, I,” Tobio stutters. How does one say this? Without seeming weird? Without asking for pity? “I don’t  _ have _ a penis.” 

Tsukishima goes silent. His face goes through a series of emotions that Tobio can’t categorize. Tobio looks at the way Tsukishima’s lips settle, the slope of his nose, blemishless skin, strong jaw, and just how perfect he is right now. How suited he is for this job. Tobio then looks at himself in the mirror. This is why he is unemployed. 

“Oh,” Tsukishima kicks his feet. “I’m sorry Kageyama.” Tobio wants to say something along the lines of  _ “I know how you can repay me, give me your phone number,”  _ or  _ “I’m going to expose you to the media if you don’t go on a date with us.” _ But, before Tobio can say anything, a big hand is whacked on his back. Tobio flinches, hastily spinning around to meet the hand that has forsaken him. It’s huge, and manicured, attached to a burly body. His head is shaved. His look is fierce. His smile is frightening. He’s got an entire sleeve of tattoos and Tobio is too scared to actually examine them. 

“You—oh dear god,” He freezes when he sees Tobio’s face. “You need a shower,” He says this more confidently, slowly removing his hand from Tobio’s shoulder. 

 

***

Kei is in a predicament. The fact that Kageyama somehow got involved into his work in the first place is already dreadful. He was just trying to be nice! Kiyoko keeps telling him to be nicer to the fans, nicer in general. He’s not particularly good at that, let alone deciphering what is  _ too nice _ . Kei was going to let Kageyama, an obvious fan, come with him to the photo shoot. There was no intention of this happening. He wanted the attention too. Can Kei say that? That his heartless soul wanted to be pined after? 

Then, he insulted Kageyama, in a more than offensive way. And Kei can admit, he is a dick, but that was uncalled for. Kei is uncalled for. Can he end it? Right here, right now? He knows it was a misunderstanding but he  _ laughed. _ Kei never laughs. He has the emotional complexity of an amoeba. Why, out of all times he could have laughed, did he choose then? 

With all this worrying, Kei almost feels like he cares about Kageyama’s feelings. But he doesn’t, this—this is all about his reputation, for the media, for his modeling gigs. A transphobic piece of shit who takes pictures with homeless men who have NEVER modeled in their life is—wait. Maybe Kei could use this to his advantage. “Super model Kei Tsukishima gives homeless man a makeover!” That would sound great on the headlines. 

Kei sits in a chair on the sidelines, waiting for the big reveal. Is he ready? Yes. How overwhelming can this be? It’s fucking Kageyama, adorable egg boy. Kei doesn’t want to fuck him now. A shower isn’t going to change that. 

Kei has been thinking of Kageyama said on their walk here. Kei has been in three relationships before, all for publicity. In high school he didn’t bother, considering he started modeling his first year. Not as an underwear model, obviously. He didn’t feel like he was emotionally ready for a relationship like that. He still doesn’t. And after seeing three gorgeous men (yes, he’s calling Kageyama gorgeous, but he is still disgusting) he doesn’t think he’s prepared for anything. Kei finds it very alarming that he’s been working in an industry of pretty people, all of them being famous, but there are still visually pleasing people everywhere. He has always just assumed exceptionally pretty people knew their worth and joined the modeling industry. Maybe not everyone is cut out for it. 

He looks up to see Tanaka, one of his make up artists, stride into the room with two big glowing eyes. Kei can feel one of his big announcements coming on, so he doesn’t bother getting up from his seat. 

“He came to me in despair,” Tanaka starts, one hand to his mouth like a microphone. “Ryuu Tanaka, please help me become less disgusting!” He says this, maybe trying to imitate Kageyama. It sounds nothing like him. It’s funny, just a little, that Kei knows Kageyama is back behind the doors, clearly hearing what Tanaka is saying, knowing it’s false, and playing along. He can imagine Kageyama, the gross boy who intentionally spilt coffee on him, standing with a robe on, showered, brushed, shaved. Clean. But still disgusting on the inside, of course. “He is blessed that I so gratefully pampered him.

“Kageyama was a tough one. I had to scrub away three, yes I said three, weeks of grime. But, thankfully, your beloved make up artist has made it happen! And, too my surprise, there was something beautiful underneath all that bacteria. Please welcome, new and improved, Tobio Kageyama!” Tobio, huh? Tanaka backs away from the door, pulling the handle open. All five people in the room were giving full attention, including Kei, who doesn’t give much to things like this. Discovering your sexuality over a freckled boy, his orange husband, and a showerless man is tough, okay? 

Is he ready for this? Yeah.. Pft. Of course.

Kageyama walks through the door. And all he can think is “I want to get to know you better.” He wants to know about Kageyama’s living arrangements. He wants to know why he doesn’t take showers more often. Because Kei appreciated it. A lot. Over years of modeling he’s seen plenty of perfect people. And there’s just something so raw and beautiful about Kageyama right now. It’s like that with all of his friends. (Would he call them friends?) Nobody in the modeling business has natural orange hair like Hinata. Yamaguchi has exceptional freckles. Kageyama is standing right here in front of him, being... different. 

Kei isn’t different like them. He’s blond and brown eyed and--for fucks sake everyone and their mom thinks he’s hot. But he almost envies them. What they have, how they are. Kei could never be a part of that. 

Him and Kageyama make eye contact. Kei sees Kageyama’s shaved jaw, no cuts, no bruises. His skin is clean and his eyes are lined with a deep brown. Their lids glossy, two natural blue irises staring at him. His silk robe is loosely tied by the waist, only a little bit of chest showing. It looks red and irritated from waxing, and Kei almost wishes he saw it before that. He wonders what Kageyama is thinking. Probably about how weird Kei’s glasses are. 

He places his middle finger on the center of his glasses and pushes them up the bridge of his nose.

The sexual tension is overwhelming. 

“Okay guys!” Bokuto yells. “Remember, corporate. Tomorrow.” He ends this with clapping his hands, and rolling to Kageyama. “You really cleaned up nice, didn’t you?” He laughs, tipping his head back. 

“Bokuto!” Akaashi angelically yells, somehow. He gives Bokuto a stern look, then returns to fiddling with his camera. 

“Ok, just, try and follow my instructions as well as you can,” He advises, more towards Kageyama than Kei. “If these are good, you might even make the front cover.” He smiles wildly at Kageyama, who’s eyes light up a little at the idea. Kei knows it’ll make the front cover. He’s fucking Kei Tsukishima. “You’re both already dressed?” 

They both nod their heads. 

“Well, let’s get to it,” He finishes, gesturing for them to remove their robes. Kei knew this was going to happen eventually. Of course, out of all days for Kageyama to invade Tsukishima’s schedule, he chose this one. The day he’s doing an exceptionally touchy underwear shoot. He was supposed be doing this shoot another experienced model who knows how to control himself. And what is he supposed to suspect from Kageyama? And he really doesn’t mean that in a mean way, but if he doesn’t have a penis, what else does he have? Kageyama always so many huge coats at the same time, so how slim is he really? Well, Kei knows he isn’t chubby from what he sees from the robe. 

It’s not a make or break situation it’s just, important. 

Kei has already removed his robe when Kageyama just starts to fumble with the knot on his. And for the first time ever in his career, Kei feels like he’s in a porno. 

**Author's Note:**

> I'll be updating this fic from time to time until it is finished, so keep updated! Leave me a kudo or whatever B).


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